


We Bloom from Hellfire

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Wish I Had An Angel [9]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Damian showing off so much it's almost painful, M/M, a little domestic fluff, budding friendship, little murder clone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 07:03:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6228535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vanni keeps finding likeness, between himself and those he now calls family. But maybe, given a second chance- he sees the lines that connect him and Damian far clearer than he did, initially.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Bloom from Hellfire

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry about the lack of an update last weekend, I was out of town and busy, and didn't get it written! Hopefully we're getting back on track again.

The second time Vanni appeared at the manor, only days after his first visit- he was still awestruck. He still stared, sitting in the front seat now, as Dick pulled up to it. Still tried to take in it’s shape and height, and wanted to call it a castle- kept thinking back to the Emerald City, from the Wizard of Oz.

“I have to talk with Bruce for a bit,” Dick said, as they walked towards the front door. He had his hand reassuringly between Vanni’s shoulders. “But Alfred said he’d be more than happy to spend some time with you, give you a better tour than I bet Jason did.”

Vanni nodded. He very much liked Alfred- his face was gentle, calming- and he’d made that tea which had tasted like a blessed type of warm water that Vanni wanted _more_ of. Better than the disgusting thing that Dick and Jason drank- _coffee_.

Dick knocked on the door, and Vanni stuffed his hands into the pockets of his large purple sweater. Beneath it, he was in all black- colors he clung to. Colors he knew.

Alfred opened the door, offered a smile to them both and stepped out of the way, so they could walk in. Dick gave the man a hug, before turning to Vanni- giving him one as well. Vanni didn’t question it, he wrapped his arms around Dick’s neck and squeezed, giggled over the kiss to his temple.

“You keep Alfred in line,” Dick said, “And I’ll see you soon.” Vanni nodded, watched Dick head away from the entrance foyer, before he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“It is good to see you again,” Alfred said, “Can I interest you in a cup of tea, perhaps?”

Vanni smiled, nodded enthusiastically, and followed Alfred towards the kitchen.

*

Dick stepped into the Cave- was glad he and Bruce could do this here, and he didn’t have to try and squeeze in to see him at his office. Bad enough they’d let the issue go a few days.

Dick headed straight over to the computers, where he found Bruce sitting, studying a number of documents pulled up on the large screen. It only took a moment, a quick glance, for Dick to realize it was a few of the gossip articles.

“Good to see you’re all read up,” Dick said, flopping down into one of the computer chairs. “It’s a mess, isn’t it?”

“We’re lucky, most of these are printing the same story, simply worded differently. Poor journalism, _desperate_ journalism.” Dick nodded, and Bruce glanced at him, added, “They’ve tried to get my input on the suddenly revelation.”

“Fuck,” Dick groaned, scrubbing his hands up over his face. “What’d you say?”

“Simply that it was not my place to discuss such family matters, and that we would issue a statement when we felt the family was _ready_.” Bruce folded his hands in his lap, swiveling his chair to properly face Dick. “You told me, when you called, that you had an idea.”

Dick nodded, licked his lips. “Yeah. I… I mean, I’ve thought about this. About what I’d eventually have to tell the world, for them to accept Vanni. I can’t have him living in the penthouse forever.” Dick paused for a moment- and Bruce’s look was all he needed as his silent _go ahead_. “I had an uncle somewhere in the family who did some time. I think he’s dead now. But he would’ve been alive when Vanni was born.” Dick paused, to see if Bruce might correct him, on the term.

He did not. Dick wanted to smile.

“And I can’t claim he’s my actual biological son...I would’ve been _thirteen_. It’s not impossible but it’s improbable. So what I’m thinking is, he’s my cousin. It explains the resemblance- I know it’s striking how much he looks like me, but he’s dressing differently than I did, wearing his hair differently, longer- we might be able to get away with people not realizing how _exact_ it is.”

Bruce nodded. “Alright. I’ll bite. Explain why he’s yours now.”

“Maybe I did some digging, was missing my _family_ , found out about the uncle- found the birth certificate. At the same time, Vanni, who has been bouncing around the system, has been getting curious. Found some stuff on his dad and asked someone to look up the name for him, _Grayson_. And it was just fate.”

Bruce tapped his fingers, the look on his face telling Dick he was mulling the idea over, picking it apart. “It’s not as tight as it could be, Dick. _But_ , it would give the media that fairy tale feel you know they enjoy so damn much. That might cover our tracks.”

Dick nodded. “Perfect. So we give them that. We play up on some truth- we don’t give specifics because it’s _personal_ and Vanni is recovering- but abuse would explain why he doesn’t talk much. Maybe… the veins…”

“We’d have to forge a birth certificate, a social security number. Possible documents linking your deceased uncle to him. Medical records.” Bruce leaned his head back, rubbed his chin. “We have to create a past for him.”

“We’ve got the resources,” Dick pointed out, “We can do it. And then we can give a damn statement to the press, and this can be over with. And I can take my kid out and not worry about having to suddenly explain his existence to the world because we wanted ice cream, or he needed new socks.”

Bruce almost laughed over that. “Alright,” he said, “I’m going to trust your judgement on this one.”

And that- hadn’t been what Dick expected. He’d expected some resistance, he’d expected Bruce to shoot down half his ideas, to pick them apart, restring them together to _his_ standards. “Really?” was all he could manage, and Bruce leaned forward, reached out and squeezed Dick’s knee.

“Yes. He’s your child, and I’m not going to take that away from you. If this is the story you want to tell, it’s what we’ll tell.” He paused, added, “I trust you with him. I trust _you_. I just worry about your safety. About Jason’s, too.”

“He’d love to hear you say that,” Dick pointed out, and Bruce glanced away.

“How was he, after your last visit?”

“Alright. He didn’t get into a mood or anything. I think Vanni helped with that- he’s a good distraction, when Jason’s feeling low.” Dick paused again. “I’m just glad you two can work together, after everything. Glad you guys can be civil.” And then, quietly, “Glad maybe we can all be a family.”

*

Vanni sat with his legs folded up on the dining room chair, sipping his tea as Alfred settled the old book in front of him. He stared at it, couldn’t read the words on the front, and pointed to them, before shaking his head.

“Oh, I am aware young master Vanni,” Alfred said, as he took a seat next to him, “that you cannot read. Master Richard informed me. However, you will not need words for this.” He flipped open the heavy cover- and inside were photographs, settled behind a thin, clear film.

Vanni leaned over them, eyes wide, pressing his finger tip to one and grinning. That was _Dick_ , that was Dick smiling and he was smaller than Vanni was.

“He was ten there,” Alfred said, “And here, we have one of he and Master Bruce before a hike I encouraged them to take,” he pointed to the photograph- an overly excited looking young Dick and a bemused Bruce- “And here, we have Dick dressed up for one of Master Bruce’s galas.”

Dick in a tiny tuxedo. Dick just smiling, in so many pictures- sometimes doing nothing at all. One of him doing the dishes with suds up to his arms. One of him just laying in the grass outside.

One of him in a flamboyant costume. Vanni paused, cocked his head- blinked. He had seen that, somewhere, once. Somewhere back with the Court. He was used to seeing the _Nightwing_ , but this-

“Master Richard in his early Robin days,” Alfred said, smiling very fondly. “He lived for his nights with Master Bruce.”

“Robin,” Vanni whispered, studying the bright colors again. Alfred kept his smile, reached for his own tea to take a sip, before he set it back down and stood up.

“Excuse me for just a moment. I should see if Master Bruce or Master Richard would like some tea.” He reached over, patted the boy’s shoulder. “Continue to look.” He gave Vanni a very warm smile, before making his way from the room.

Vanni reached for his cup, cradled it in his hands and sipped at the tea, staring down at the book. He almost didn’t want to flip the page- he liked Dick’s smile, with all those bright colors. He liked the confidence in the way he held his shoulders-

He liked that he could see his own face, in Dick’s.

He finally let go of the warm cup with one hand, flipped to the next- and Dick was a little older, getting taller- his face thinning out. Vanni inclined his head, studied a picture of him and a young woman with red hair, pretty and familiar-

_Barbara_. He realized it, in the glint of her eyes, the way she looked as if she was four steps ahead of everyone in the room. He reached out, gently ran his finger over the shape of her hair-

“-tt- Father did not say we would have company.”

Vanni jerks his head to the side, looked at the doorway, and Damian was standing there, watching him with those _eyes_. Vanni’s shoulders tensed, and he remembered how well he had moved, during their first encounter. That he was fast and knew how to hold his body and had made Vanni _work_ for that pin.

He was defensive without even realizing it- and Damian must have seen it in the way he held his body, before he glanced away, offered up, “Relax, I’m not interested in another sparring match. Pennyworth would be mortified if we defiled his dining room again.”

Vanni said nothing, and Damian walked over to the table, rested his hands firmly on it and leaned over, looking at the book. He snorted, rolling his eyes. “Look at Grayson, he was _ridiculous_.”

Vanni frowned. He set his cup down, signed _why_ , and Damian was looking at him, a brow quirked up.

And, a little quietly, “I do not know sign language.” And, after a moment, “I’m sorry.”

Vanni had a strange feeling those were words he didn’t say often.

Vanni swallowed, took a moment to try and drag the single word up from his throat. “Why?” he asked, in a small squeak, and Damian choked a little- looked away again, very quickly.

“Why is he ridiculous? Just _look_ at that grin. He is always ridiculous.” He paused, then added, “Also, that shirt is an _atrocity_.” Vanni studied Dick’s wildly patterned shirt- and he rather liked it, with all the colors.

Damian reached out, flipped the page, and there was another picture of Dick in that colorful suit. Vanni smiled, reached out and touched the picture, tracing the shape of his vibrant yellow cape. “Robin,” he whispered- and when he glanced up, again, Damian wouldn’t look him in the eye.

It was peculiar- he wondered if he was doing something _wrong_.

“Grayson _was_ Robin,” Damian said, pulling back, jabbing his thumb into his own chest. “ _I’m_ Robin now. And my suit is better than that. Now more ridiculous _shorts_.” He made a face of disgust, and Vanni inclined his head. What was wrong with the shorts? They were such a vibrant green, they made him think of fresh leaves. “And I’m a better Robin.”

That had Vanni shaking his head- because he couldn’t believe that _anyone_ who did something Dick did was _better_ at it. He began signing- before he paused, took a breath, and said as he signed it, “Dad is the best.”

Damian clicked his tongue again, before he turned away, motioning Vanni on with his hand. “Follow me.” Vanni furrowed his brow- thought to stay, because Alfred had promised to come back- but his curiosity was piqued. He shot the photo of teenage Dick another glance, before he stood up, hurrying after Damian. They moved towards the other end of the manor, paused at an old grandfather clock. Damian reached up, manually moved the arms, and suddenly it was sliding to the side, along with the panel of the wall-

Opening up to a staircase.

Vanni stared at it, mouth going slack, and Damian gave a smug smile. He didn’t say a word, stepping in, and Vanni hesitated at the threshold. It was rather dark- and while he could see, it felt like so many memories he suddenly didn’t want.

So many dark corridors and corners and small spaces he had been stuffed in, locked in, _forgotten in_. Damian paused, a few steps down, glanced back at him, and rolled his eyes.

“If you say you are afraid of the dark, I cam casting you out of the family already.”

Vanni frowned, squared his shoulders- and fears be _damned_ he was heading down the stairs. Because he would _not_ risk Damian doing anything to hinder his relations with his family. Damian smiled, proud that he’d convinced the kid to follow him, and continued heading down the stair, to a small elevator. Once on it, the trip down to the cave was short-

And when Vanni stepped out into the vast space, he could only stare, look around frantically.

“Welcome to the Cave,” Damian offered, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Big,” Vanni offered, staring up towards the endless black above them. Damian kept his grin, before someone was calling his name. Vanni followed the sound, saw the massive setup of the computers- saw Dick and Bruce sitting there. He hurried past Damian, leaving him there and bounding over, heading straight for Bruce-

And throwing his arms around him. He hugged tightly, and for a moment the man just stared at him, confused- before he settled his large hands on Vanni’s back.

“Well, hello,” he offered, and behind Vanni, Dick smiled.

“Kid doesn’t say hello without a hug.” 

“-tt- He did not hug _me_ ,” Damian pointed out, walking over. Dick glanced at him.

“You _fought_ with him the first time you met. I wouldn’t hug you either.” Damian rolled his eyes, and Dick stood up, tossed his arm around the kid’s shoulders and pulled him in, squeezing. “Please tell me there wasn’t a repeat.”

“Of course not. Pennyworth would be furious if we damaged his dining room. And I am far more nervous about him than I am you or father.” Bruce huffed over that, as Vanni stood back up. “Where is he?”

“He saw the mess I left after last night’s patrol and went a little manic,” Bruce said, and Damian cracked a smile. “What are you two doing down here?”

“Pennyworth had the clone looking at pictures of Grayson as a child. I came to show him what a _real_ Robin suit looks like.”

“He has a _name_ ,” Dick pointed out, a little sternly, and Damian shrugged him off. Vanni had let go of Bruce now, turned to study the way Damian looked at Dick, the way he stood so close.

“Whatever,” Damian said, before moving past them all. Vanni hesitated, glanced at Dick- who nodded, as if saying it was okay- and turned, quickly following Damian through the large cave. He headed up a set of stairs, moved along glass cases that boasted suits displayed within. Vanni paused at one suit that looked identical to the one he had seen Dick in- pressed his hands against the glass, the tip of his nose.

Damian paused, glancing back when he realized he was no longer being followed, and folded his arms.

“That is Todd’s,” he said, and Vanni lifted his head, looked at Damian.

“Dad?” he asked, and then, for clarification, “ _Jay_?”

“Yeah, he was Robin after Dick. Until… he died.” Damian fidgeted, seemed uncomfortable saying that-

But Vanni _knew_. Jason had told him all of this. So he only nodded, looking back at it- wondered if Alfred had any pictures of Jason in this suit as well. If he had pictures of Jason when he was younger.

“Come on, you can stare at that later.” Damian reached out, got his hand around Vanni’s wrist, gently tugging him along. Despite his sweater, Vanni could feel the heat from Damian’s hand. He didn’t pull away, followed Damian through towards a case settled off into the wall. There were a number of variations on the suit around it, but Damian paused in front of one with similar colors to the one Vanni had admired.

Damian grinned, stood with his shoulder tilted towards the suit, chin held high. Vanni inclined his head, pulled his wrist free and crouched down, pointing towards the green boots.

Then, he pointed to himself. “I have red,” he said, and Damian seemed confused, didn’t seem to understand why it would matter at all.

“It’s an improvement over those ridiculous flamboyant shorts,” Damian said, jerking his thumb towards his suit. “Way more functionable. And it looks _so much cooler_.”

Vanni pursed his lips. He straightened up, began signing, and asked as he did so, “Can I touch?”

Damian shrugged a shoulder, hit a button and the case opened. Vanni reached in, ran his fingers along the tunic- it felt similar to Dick’s suit, when he dressed up and went out at night. Thick, not overly soft. Different, from the leather of Jason’s jacket.

He dragged his fingers down, along the heavy leggings, before crouching again, touching the boots. He twirled a red lace around his finger, smiled to himself. He liked them. He liked the pop of color- might have even asked if he could try them on, when footsteps behind them broke Vanni’s concentration.

“I see you have found our guest, Master Damian,” Alfred offered, “I hope things are going far more _swimmingly_ than last time.”

Damian glanced away, and Vanni swore he saw a little color rising in his cheeks. Looking up at him like this was a different angle, and he could see the jut of his cheekbones more, the thickness of his black eyelashes. He wanted to keep staring, keep _studying_ , but Alfred was offering his hand down to Vanni.

“Come with me, why don’t we all go upstairs and finish our tea?” Vanni took Alfred’s hand, standing up, and Damian shrugged a shoulder.

“I have things to do,” he mumbled, hurrying off in front of them, quickly, for the elevator. Vanni cocked his head, watched- wondered what had been said, what had been done- what did Damian have to do?

“Again, please excuse young Master Damian,” Alfred said, guiding Vanni away from the costumes. “He is going through that peculiar phase of life where once is _required_ to be a teenage.” Alfred glanced down at Vanni, and then added, “A phase you yourself seem to be handling far better.”

Vanni furrowed his brow, signed the word _confused_ \- but Alfred missed it, looking away now, as they headed back for the elevator, giving a wave to Dick and Bruce, as they worked.

*

“That was better than their first meeting,” Dick said, having turned his computer chair around, so he could fold his arms against the backrest and watch as Bruce worked. “I didn’t see anyone throwing any punches.”

Bruce hummed, didn’t glance away. He was forging a birth certificate, first on their list of endless things that needed to be created. God, it could take all day. All night.

Dick didn’t want to leave until it was done.

“Did Damian say anything, after we left?” Dick asked. “About… Vanni?”

“He didn’t seem interested in talking about your boy. Or the ordeal at all.” Dick nodded, and Bruce glanced at him. “I assume whatever you and he spoke about patched things up.”

Another nod. Dick really hoped so- he didn’t want Damian on opposing ground from him. He loved the kid endlessly- and he thought Vanni would, too. Given a little time. And that Damian might find him interesting, at least-

“Proof read this,” Bruce said, shoving his chair back, closing his eyes for a moment to let them rest. Dick leaned closer, reading over the birth certificate, pausing when he saw _Giovanni Grayson_ because it seemed so _real_ , made everything seem heavy and tangible, now.

He swallowed. “It looks good.” As much as Dick wished it was something else- wished he could include Jason in this, as well. But there would be no reason for his name to be on the birth cirtificate- it had to line up with Dick’s family. Bruce nodded, moving off to the next task- a social security number, before they began weaving the intricate story that would build a past for a boy they felt they were forming out of thin air.

*

“You can have a look around if you would like,” Alfred offered, as he closed the photo album and gathered up the empty tea cup. “I have to consider dinner preparations. According to Master Bruce, he and Master Dick have quite a day ahead of them.”

Vanni slid off his head, following Alfred into the kitchen, before moving through it. He headed towards the entrance foyer, and up the large stairs he’d scaled once before, with Jason. Once his feet hit the top, he was turning on instinct, retracing his steps with Jason, pausing at a door that Jason had opened, but had not gone through. He pressed his hand to the heavy wood, could hear Jason speaking, in his head.

_This was my room once_.

Vanni reached for the knob with his other hand, twisted it and pushed. The door creaked open, and he took a single step inside. The curtains were pulled shut, the only light coming from a crack in them. The door slid half way shut, as Vanni began a slow circle of the room. Old bookcases that he paused at, touched the spines of books that felt like no one had moved them in ages- he couldn’t read what they were, but he traced the lettering anyway. Wondered what they said, what they could tell him about Jason, about who he was, when he was young.

When he was a Robin, too.

He moved towards the heavy wooden desk. Not as dark as the desk in his room, larger- bulkier. He opened one of the drawers, expected it to be empty-

It _wasn’t_. The inside was littered with pens, pencils, little miscellaneous things. Vanni reached in, moved them around, pulled a purple gel pen out and inclined his head, before shoving it back. He pushed aside folded bits of paper, before he found a few old photographs, buried beneath it all. He pulled one out, studied it, the grinning face of a boy with freckles showing beneath his mask, holding the camera up- and a grumbling man in black behind him- except that, at the corner of his scowl, there was the smallest hint of a smile.

Vanni set it back in the drawer, pulled out another picture. The same boy, the same colors, the same freckles, with both his arms around _Dick_ , who was wearing a different suit. Not the one Vanni knew- this one’s collar was too large, the large sliver of his chest more skin than Vanni had seen of his Nightwing suit ever.

They were smiling. The boy seemed so _small_ , as he clutched onto Dick like he was the world. And Vanni knew, despite the mask, despite the years between this moment and his reality- he knew by the way the boy smiled, that it was Jason.

Because Jason still smiled like that, when Dick made him laugh.

He traced his finger along Jason’s face, before he tucked the photo into the pocket of his sweater. He pushed the drawer shut, moved away from the desk, towards the large bed. It was made neatly, and the room looked as if it was still cleaned on a regular basis- but it lacked life, it lacked vitality.

He hopped up onto the bed, knelt on it and wondered how long it had been since someone slept here. Knew that there wouldn’t be the remnant of Jason’s scent, on the pillows. Not now. He almost wished, however, that there would be.

He turned, flopped down on his back, stretched his arms and legs out and closed his eyes- breathed in the same air Jason had once. He’d seemed so disoriented, by the room, and Vanni just wanted to understand-

“You probably shouldn’t be in here.”

Vanni sat up, head turned towards the door. Damian was leaning in the doorway, arms folded. Watching him.

“Why?” Vanni’s voice was, as ever, a squeak of a sound, and it made the hard expression on Damian’s face seem to soften a little.

“This was Todd’s room. We just do not go in here.” Still, Damian walked in after he said it, heading for the bed. He sat on the edge, looking around, as if he himself had barely ever been in here.

“Why?”

“Because it is a grave,” Damian offered, not looking at Vanni. “Todd told you he died, yes?” He glanced back, just to see Vanni nod, before he looked away again. “Well, he was my father’s _Robin_ at the time. He did not take it well. Todd’s suit was on display for years as a reminder to father of what he had lost. And this room sat in stasis. I think father is… afraid of disrupting the past, even still.” He pursed his lips, turned back to Vanni. “What are you doing anyway?”

Vanni lifted his hands, signing as he spoke, “Alfred said to look around.”

“Well, I can tell you he didn’t mean this room.” Damian hopped back off the bed, turned and offered his hand. “Come on.” Vanni glanced at it, before he reached out, took it, let Damian help tug him off the bed, guide him back towards the door. His palm was warm, fingers calloused, just like Dick’s, Jason’s. Vanni wanted to stop him, to get a better look, to try and see the lines of his fingerprints- but Damian was pulling him out the door, closing it and turning, heading in the opposite direction, past the stairs.

He opened his mouth, wanted to ask where they were going, but his voice caught in his throat. He swallowed the question instead, and decided it didn’t matter, he would know soon enough.

Damian paused at another door, pushing it open, tugging Vanni inside. He closed the door, lifting his chin higher and offering a grin.

“My room is way better,” he pointed out, and Vanni looked all around. It had more life than Jason’s had- the curtains were tugged open, letting light in, and there were _things_ everywhere. Vanni began to tug away, towards a bookshelf, missed the fact that Damian stared at their hands for a moment, as if he had forgotten he had ever taken it- missed the color that rose for a moment on his cheeks.

Vanni lifted on his toes, looking at all the books. Some of the writing looked different, and he traced the curves, before he could _feel_ Damian moving behind him, closing in- warm, a source of heat like he was the sun or burning sand or a cluster of about-to-burst stars.

“Pennyworth said you cannot read,” Damian offered, reaching up to grasp the book Vanni was studying. He pulled it down, flipping it open. “Even if you could, this is in Arabic, not English.”

Vanni studied it, wanted to touch the pages but did not allow himself to. “It’s,” he started, his hands twisting at his sides, wanting to sign- but Damian didn’t _understand_ then. “Pretty,” he managed, and it felt like he had forced a lead weight up his throat, over his tongue.

Damian looked down at it, and he offered up a soft smile. “It is, isn’t it?” He flipped the page. “Not enough people say that, you know.” Vanni furrowed his brow, confused- and Damian shut the book, settling it away. “Come on.” Damian turned, walked across the room, and Vanni followed. They walked around Damian’s large bed, towards a metal stand with papers settled on it- lines with strange dots and shapes that _could_ have been writing.

Damian lifted something up- an instrument, settling it against his shoulder. He settled his chin, before he eased his bow over the strings.

Vanni liked the sound that came from it. Liked the way it felt like it settled into the air- was haunting, like stardust falling over him, back in nights spent in the shadows of Gotham. Damian wasn’t even looking at the papers on the stand- he had closed his eyes, was simply _playing_. He took advantage of it, studied his face again- and it was so _pretty_ , if Vanni was honest.

It seemed to fit the music, as well. When Damian finally stopped, opened those jade eyes to glance at him and eased the instrument from his shoulder, holding it and the bow, he simply said, “The violin is… a nice distraction.”

“From?” Vanni managed the word with a bit of force.

Damian studied him for a moment, before he simply said, “Everything.” He set the violin down, moving towards his desk now. Vanni hurried after, shooting the instrument a final look, before pausing at the desk as Damian hopped up on it, settling in. There was a book next to him, and Vanni glanced at it, before sitting down in the chair, tugging himself in close.

He nodded towards the book, and Damian picked it up, flipped it open. Inside, Vanni caught glimpses of sketches, drawings of animals and landscapes and _people_ \- some just sketchy, quick lines- some heavy, strong forms.

“I draw, too,” Damian admitted- and this, it was quieter. He set the sketchbook in his lap, and Vanni leaned forward in his chair, peering over it. He wanted to touch, but he was afraid of smearing the lines, of tampering with the work in some way. It looked strangely delicate.

Damian didn’t say anything else, but he did turn the book, so Vanni could look at it properly.

“You can touch,” he whispered- and maybe he hadn’t _meant_ to whisper, but Vanni would never know. He reached out, flipped the page over, studied the shape of a bird, the next page, a school of fish. He felt so sucked in that the world around him seemed to disappear- he didn’t hear a sound, not Damian’s breathing or even his own. He didn't feel the strands coming free of his braid, tickling along his cheek-

Completely forgot there was a world, at all, until he felt Damian’s knuckles brushing his cheek. He jerked his head up, and Damian suddenly pulled back, a little wide eyed- a little flushed, as if he was a child, caught touching something precious.

“Your hair,” he said, “it’s falling.” Vanni reached up, touched the strands, watched Damian’s fingers flex. “Can I…?”

Vanni nodded, let his own hand fall- not to the sketchbook, but to rest limp at Damian’s knee- and Damian reached forward again. He brushed the strands of hair back, tucked them behind Vanni’s ear, before his knuckles brushed his cheek again. He leaned closer, tilted his head slightly, let his fingertips now touch Vanni’s jaw.

“Do these bother you?” he asked, his fingers resting on some of the dark veins. Vanni knew they were- he didn’t need to see. He had them memorized.

He could have stayed quiet, could have lied- instead, he shrugged a shoulder, whispered, “A little.” Damian nodded, rubbed his thumb along one.

“You can’t hide them,” he said, and his voice- it was soft, strangely so. “Not like we hide our scars.” Vanni cocked his head- moved so that his cheek was pressed into Damian’s palm, and the heat there-

He wanted to turn. He wanted to nuzzle his palm. But Damian pulled away, as if he realized the points of contact had grown- and then he was setting his sketch book away, pushing gently at Vanni’s chair so that he could slide off the desk. He crept away, a few steps, turned away from Vanni and grasped his own tshirt, tugging it up and off, holding it in one hand and letting it hang limp at his side.

The dark skin of his back was broken by scars- but the most prominent traveled almost the entire length of his spine. It was heavy, looked old- and Vanni was standing up, pushing his chair away and taking a step towards Damian.

“No one has to see my scars,” Damian admitted- and the way he said it, it sounded like there were far more, more that Vanni believed weren’t on his skin.

He understood that. Felt it, down in his aching bones.

He reached out, let his fingertips brush along the top of the scar, sliding down an inch, two. Damian shivered, and Vanni paused, as Damian glanced over his shoulder at him.

“Your fingers are cold,” he teased, and there was a curve to his lips- a half smile. Vanni liked it. He gave him a full smile, continued to rub his fingers down it, wanted to know the texture, if it was anything like his own scars, like the mess his back was.

Somehow, touching Damian’s scars didn’t make his own feel like they were writhing, crawling along his skin- didn’t make them itch, didn’t make him want to claw back and reopen them. If anything, they felt cool, calm- soothed. He traced the scar down to the small of Damian’s back, studied the small indents of dimples there, before he pulled his hand back.

“We’ve all got marks,” Damian offered, tugging his shirt back on, turning around to face Vanni. “So don’t hate yours. They tell a story.” He reached up, rubbed the back of his neck- and there was color, in his cheeks. He scuffed his foot, and Vanni broke a smile, the kind that had Damian avoiding his eyes even more. “I know where you come from. I… I can only wonder what you’ve seen. But I think you and I- I think we’ve seen a similar sort of hell.”

Damian cleared his throat, licked his lips.

“I… apologize, for how I initially acted.” His hand fell to his side. “I just… you have someone who is very dear to me, and I worried that I was losing him.” He offered out his hand, dragged his eyes back up to Vanni’s. “Can we start over? I’m Damian. Robin. And… I guess we are family now.”

Vanni looked at Damian’s hand, rolled the word _family_ over in his mind- before he gently pushed Damian’s hand away. For a moment, those jade eyes seemed to _crack_ \- but then Vanni took two quick steps forward, tossed his arms up around Damian’s neck and leaned up on his toes. He hugged him tightly, as Damian stood there, arms hanging limply at his sides- too shocked to even move.

Vanni turned, and in one quick movement, pressed his lips to Damian’s warm cheek in a chaste, quick kiss. Damian tensed, as Vanni pulled back, smiling at him.

“That is how you kiss family,” he whispered- felt the words feeling surer on his tongue than he expected. “My dads told me.”

Damian raised a brow- and, Vanni with his arms still around his neck- reached up and gently placed his arms around him, hands splayed on his back. He held him tightly, and Vanni eased his head down, his nose just brushing Damian’s neck.

“Yeah,” Damian admitted, “it is.” He clutched a little tighter- and he felt good, against Vanni. Warm and comforting, how he felt with Dick, with Jason. Except easier to hold onto- while Damian was still bigger than him, he could reach his face, unlike with either of his dads.

Damian was the one to pull back, and Vanni followed, taking a step back. Damian looked about to speak, when there was a knock at his door, before it opened, and Alfred peeked in.

“Master Damian, have you seen-” he cut off, noting Vanni, and cleared his throat. “Ah, nevermind. Your father has informed me that Masters Dick and Vanni will be remaining for dinner, and that he would like you to keep our guest company during.”

Damian nodded, and Alfred smiled.

“I apologize if I interrupted.” He slipped back out before Damian could say a word, and the teen reached up, pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Do not speak of this to Grayson,” he mumbled, “or father. Or Todd. Or anyone. _Please_.” Vanni frowned, folded his arms- but didn’t argue it. He didn’t understand _why_ Damian would not want someone to see their affection- but he certainly wouldn’t force it on him. Vanni nodded, and Damian reached out- this time, when his fingers brushed along his cheek, there was no excuse, no reason- other than the gentle touch.

And he smiled.

*

“He’s out cold,” Dick whispered, hoisting Vanni up into his arms. He had been curled up on one of the couches, sleeping soundly alone. It was late- far later than Dick meant to stay, but he and Bruce had had so much to work on.

“Call me in the morning,” Bruce offered, walking with Dick towards the front door. “Once Jason has been caught up. And,” he paused for a moment, “maybe next time, he will come as well.”

Dick nodded, cradling his son, as Damian suddenly came running down the stairs, sliding along the foyer floor. “Father, Grayson, have you seen-” he broke off, caught sight of Vanni in Dick’s arms, and stopped, straightening up. “Oh.”

“Were you looking for him?” Dick asked, looking a little shocked, and Damian reached up, rubbed the back of his neck.

“I… I thought he was lost in the manor. You asked Pennyworth to have me keep an eye on him, and I left him an hour ago.” He exhaled, added, “I simply did not want to deal with you _yapping_ at me if I lost your child.”

Dick glanced over at Bruce, whose look simply read _go with it_ , even though there was a blatant lie, in Damian’s eyes.

“Well, I’ve got him right here. I’m heading home, actually. Don’t burn the city down on patrol, little D.” Damian nodded, and Dick turned, nodded to Bruce, who got the door open for him. Dick headed out into the night, getting to the car, and having to adjust Vanni, so he was held on his shoulder now. He simply nuzzled against Dick’s neck happily, and Dick smiled to himself, as he got the car door open, got him settled inside.

Vanni slept, the whole drive home to Bludhaven. He slept as Dick carried him into the apartment, slept in the elevator ride up to the penthouse. Slept, as Dick just managed to get the door open.

“Babe? Is that you?” He heard Jason calling through the penthouse, closed the door and heard his boots, heavy footsteps. When he appeared around the corner, he was in half his gear- his chest plate on, gloves and jacket and helmet still missing. He paused when he noticed the bundle in Dick’s arms, and cracked a smile. “We better get him to bed.”

Dick nodded, followed Jason through the penthouse. Jason pushed Vanni’s door open, and Dick slipped in, heading for the bed. Jason pulled the blanket back, and then set him down carefully on the mattress, watched as he turned on his side and curled up, rubbed his cheek into his pillow.

“Guess he’s sleeping in that outfit,” Dick said, as Jason carefully pulled his shoes off, left them tossed on the floor- an absolutely _un-Jason_ thing to do, Dick knew. “Sorry I was gone so long. There was a lot to do.”

“I get it. No worries.” He leaned in, kissed Dick’s cheek affectionately. “Glad you got home before I left for the night.”

Dick nodded. “Tomorrow morning, could you read over what Bruce and I did? We want you completely caught up on everything before we make our move to make this public.”

“Of course.” Jason leaned over Vanni now, kissed his temple, brushed a few loose strands of his hair back, before catching sight of something sticking out of his pocket. He reached down, carefully grabbed it and plucked it free, flipping it over and staring at the photograph.

“What is it?” Dick asked, frowning, as Jason sat on the edge of the bed, staring down at the picture like he was looking at a ghost.

When he passed it over to Dick, he realized Jason _was_.

“Where did he get this?” Dick asked, smiling to himself over the photo. “Oh my god, Jay, you were so _small_.”

“It’s not one of Alfred’s,” Jason said, leaning closer, looking at it. “I… I remember this one. I always loved it, because you let me hold onto you so tightly. I used to keep it in my room, at my desk- so when I was doing my homework, I could glance at it whenever I got frustrated or stuck. It used to make me smile.” He paused, reached out to cover Dick’s hand, holding it. “It was in my room, Dick. You know Bruce never touched anything in there. Alfred only cleaned…”

“What was he doing in your old room?” Dick glanced down at their sleeping son, and Jason shrugged a shoulder.

“I showed it to him, but we didn’t go in. Maybe he got curious. As much as we don’t know about him, he doesn’t know about us, either.” Jason stood up, took the picture and set it on Vanni’s nightstand, where it could get folded. Dick stood up, following him silently from the room. They pulled the door shut behind them, and Dick took up the space in the doorway of their tiny armory, after Jason headed in to finish getting ready for patrol.

“But why take it?”

Jason shrugged a shoulder, pulling one of his gloves on. “Ask him in the morning,” he offered, grabbing the other. He paused before he pulled it on, crossing the small room and reached up, cupping Dick’s cheek. He kissed him sweetly, his fingertips sliding back into his hair. When he pulled back, Dick chased him, stole another kiss, two, _three_ -

Jason tugged his glove on as he finally pulled back completely, before he grabbed his jacket, shrugged it on. He was holding his helmet and climbing the stairs up towards the roof, when he added, with a playful smile,

“Keep the bed warm for me, darlin’.”

Dick nodded, as Jason pulled his helmet on- and was gone, up into the night. He stood there a moment, alone, before he turned, left the room, tugging the door shut behind him, heading for their bed. He left the door open a crack, should Vanni need him in the night, and undressed, crawling into bed and sprawling out, more in the center. So he could push his face into Jason’s pillow, so his body heat might seep into place, so that Jason wouldn’t be freezing when he came home, laid down.

Dick closed his eyes- was exhausted from the pure thought-circles he felt he and Bruce had had to run in. Was looking forward to sleep- even more so when Jason came back. He always slept better with him there, with Jason’s arms locked around him.

Hell, he’d _always_ felt better when Jason held on- like he had, in that picture. Dick swore he remembered it, remembered taking it for Jason when he was a _kid_ , when he was a Robin with a burning crush and the cutest smiles, and Dick just wanted to keep him _safe_.

Some things, Dick ultimately decided, in the dark of the room, never changed.


End file.
